You're gettin' on my very last nerve

Girl had a full-blown tantrum at 5pm today. I believe I truly had the patience of a Saint (Bernard), but after some 20 minutes was quite frazzled. Then E asked me if I had any idea what was going on with her? (You’ve got to be F’ing kidding me!) I had kept my cool UNTIL then, but that really sent me over the edge. Especially when he told me I obviously was not ready to discuss it right then in a very condescending tone. DUUUHHH!

What was the life or death crisis you ask? She was having a melt down over her wardrobe choice and the clothes not fitting properly. Whaaat are we a teenager already?? I got her calmed down and then E made the mistake (poor man) of trying to help her go potty and she was set off yet AGAIN for another 10 minutes.

I’m afraid my drink of choice is whiskey – Jack Daniels to be exact. I should have downed one, but instead have been drinking gallons of hot tea so that I can stay awake and do some projects. Now I really, really, really understand the Southern expression …you’re gettin’ on my very last nerve.

It's quite late and I just may have to tear into the SSOC (Secret Stash O' Chocolat). I've earned it. Cheers! O.K., I'm shameless with the italics...

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